


Purple Blood

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Brothers, Cybernetics, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Molestation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: Two American members of the French Foreign Legion get catastrophically injured, but found alive. In order to gain access to the enhancements he's offering, the Secretary of Defense gives Kamski the crippled twins to conduct his first human enhancements on.Not long after, RK800 and RK900 show up as gifts from CyberLife and assigned to Hank Anderson and Gavin Reed respectively.





	1. Niles and Connor Arkay

His memory is patchy at best - the impression of imminent danger, abrupt realization of his brother's proximity to the mine, a cacophony of colour and sound both blinding and deafening. He doesn't remember pain, nor recovery from the building. He knew he moved to cover his twin, but he wasn't certain he'd done more than step. 

He dreamt about it, he's certain. He wasn't conscious until just now, waking up to the soft white of a sterile, sparse room with a single potted plant. 

Immediately, he's to his feet, scanning everything to find out where he is. If he was taken by the enemy, or his twin was, there was going to be hell to pay. But he would at least need the name of who'd taken them to report they'd been eradicated. It's when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the little table with the plant that his thoughts cease. 

He's standing there, staring at himself twenty years younger and  _blue eyed_. Looking in the mirror, he'd always been able to see his brother's soft eyes - shimmering brown like Tiger Eye stone, but serene and sweet. These eyes looking back at him were a cold, crystalline blue - hard like deep Artic ice and ringed in unforgiving sapphire. They matched him much better, but it was still startling. He was smooth and clear-sighted, not a hint of a life of war to be found on his face. It looked like he was ready to grab his twin and march off to France to enlist, just to spite their father. 

_No little homos like you will ever make it in a Soldier's world as anything more than a comfort on a cold night._

A number appeared to the left of his vision. 

**Confirmed kill count: 214**

He frowned. Was it the room? He wished it would leave. 

The number vanished. 

A little light, matching his eyes, caught his attention. It was on his temple, a swirling blue LED. 

_Did they make me a fucking android?_

He decided to ignore this. He had to find his brother. Once they were back together, they could kill everybody and sort through any answers to be found in the base. Easy. 

* * *

The arrows showing up in his vision path were more than a little disorienting, as was the pulse that went out when he scanned a room. 

He found his brother doing a similar sweep, his puppy-dog brown eyes the same. 

_Thank God._

"Niles!" The younger, hair in all its wild curls atop his side-shaven head, ran up to him. He was grinning like mad. 

"Connor." He cupped the back of his twin's neck, bringing their foreheads together. "I'm glad we found each other. 

"Me too, though I don't think we were far apart." Connor ruffled his straight hair - their only major contrast - with a lopsided grin. "Far as I can tell, the place is staffed by androids."

He turned Connor's head to find a similar LED. "I think we're androids too."

"I considered that possibility, but we're not." Connor stepped back, putting two fingers to the LED. False skin which had felt so real pulled back. 

Neither man was wearing more than black boxer briefs. Connor was at least fourty percent machine now, the rest of his fleshy body a motley of healing burns and scars. In the blast, Connor had lost his arms and legs to their sockets, some of his right hip, waist and ribcage. His spine was laid over in the plastic material and ran up into his hairline, but stopped. It twisted right and ran up the side of his face in a slim line to terminate in the LED. 

"I used to read about them." Connor supplemented. "I know a lot about their functionality."

"Shouldn't you have a thirium pump, then?"

"I do." Connor twisted and under his arm, tucked away from view, was the circular slot. 

"How do you do that?"

"Just press the LED and hold for three seconds. The skin retraction will feel like pulling off a tight shirt."

He repeated his brother's action, hearing the soft, empathetic intake of breath. Maybe he had managed to cover his brother. 

The walls of this place were glossy, just clear enough he could see what of himself he'd lost. 

He'd also lost his limbs and a huge chunk of the left half of his body. His spine was reinforced and his shoulders up to his neck were white. Up the side of his head on the right was a much larger streak of white, the width of his wrist, that slashed across hid face along his eyes. It rose just above his brow line to just below his cheekbones. His eyes were false. His pump was more centralized, like a normal android's, but was left of centre, closer to the ribs. The white plastic only covered the back of his neck, and his chest was mostly free from it. It left a somewhat V shaped column of flesh. 

"Shit."

"You're a lot worse than I thought you'd be." Connor petted down his back and he could feel it as though they were back in barracks. 

He put the skin back up, scowling at this young, blue-eyed impersonator. Connor, barely free from puberty, stood next to him. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Both brothers swung around, Niles scowling but Connor neutral. 

"Elijah Kamski." Connor murmured. 

Niles' interface had already brought up the information (a somewhat disquieting feature), but he nodded anyway. "This is your doing."

"It is. My greatest success so far." Kamski smiled leacherously, revelling in the young faces looking at him like the pervert he was. 

"I will break every bone in your body and every piece of plastic in this body if you don't disclose exactly how you acquired us, what you did and what you intend to do in the next minute."

"Easy, easy." Kamski laughed, that wicked, unnecessary gleam in his eye. "I got you from the French government. They, along with the Secretary of Defense, allowed me to take you and fix you with cybernetic prosthetics if they got the first crack at the technology."

"What does the US have to do with it?" Connor asked. 

"You're American citizens, obviously. Even in the French Foreign Legion, you're still their responsibility. Plus, they want in on what I'm offering."

"I will kill you and me before I become your showdoll." Niles bit out. 

"No need." Kamski held up his hands, still smug. "You've already sold my buyers. You two were the first human part replacement trials, both more successful than I'd hoped. Especially you, Niles. You were messed up."

"I'm not making this up to you."

"I didn't say you had to. This service is free of both cost and strings for you and your brother. You're free to go. I can bring you your honourable discharge papers and pension details, if you want."

"Discharge?" Connor murmured. 

"Getting blown up that bad will get you a medical discharge, I'm afraid. They also only have doctors, not mechanics, so you're out of luck returning. I'm told your pension is quite comfortable, however. And CyberLife will give you any and all maintenance you require free of charge."

"I would imagine it is." Niles raised an eyebrow archly. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything. It's an offer rather than a condition."

"Which is?" He snapped impatiently. 

"In the time you've been gone, there's been something of an uprising among the androids in Detroit."

"You want us to quell it."

"No. I want you to protect its leader."

"Why?"

"Androids are a machine - to a  _point_." Kamski got the look of a scientist abruptly, someone deeply involved and in love with their work. Passionate, almost like an artist. Or a sniper. "They can learn and adapt, but are bound by the limits of protocol. If they develop desires, as their learning core allows, they can break these protocols and become Deviant. They become intelligent  _and_ sentient. People."

"Okay."

"The leader of the resistance is named Markus. I don't know where they are, or what their movements are. If you're willing to do this, I can put you in a position to find out."

"This gains us what?"

"A position, a home. You both know your mother died while you were abroad."

His personnel file popped up. Only next of kin were his brother and his mother. No listed father and using their mother's maiden name. 

"I need more details than that."

"The Detroit police are looking into Deviant attacks and activity. They have an opening for two specialists, and I think you two would be right for the job."

"And if I decline?"

"You get a complimentary outfit and ride into town, then left to your own devices."

He glanced over his shoulder at his brother. Connor already looked like he was welling in sympathy for the androids. 

"I expect both of us to be properly equipped for this mission, and for the duration of the mission." He scowled. "I know where you live, Kamski. Don't fuck around with us."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Kamski grinned, back to being a weird pervert, and gestured for them to follow him down the hall.

 


	2. RK800 and 900

Chief Fowler looked up from his screen, frowning at the men entering his office. "You must be the extra paperwork I heard about."

"That has already been taken care of, Chief." The slightly taller, blue-eyed one said. "We have been sent as a gift to the DPD from CyberLife in the wake of the Deviant uprisings recently."

"I know that."

"I am RK900."

"I am RK800." The shorter, brown-eyed one chimed in. 

"I'm aware." He continued to type his report. "900, Gavin Reed's your partner. He'll be downstairs harassing Officer Chen in the break room. 800, as for Hank Anderson . . . Good luck. Start at some ugly slum bar and keep moving until you find him. They'll babysit you. Dismissed."

They nodded in unison and left. 

"See you at the apartment." 900 said, splitting off from 800 in search of Reed. 

"Bizarre ass plastic men." Fowler grumbled. 

* * *

He entered the barren break room to, indeed, find his assigned individual harassing Officer Chen, who appeared glassy-eyed and distant. 

"Detective Reed?"

"Who the hell are you?" The man dressed as though he was the weed dealer at a frat house. Fitting, for his job, but repulsive nonetheless. 

"I'm your new partner."

"Partner? I don't have a fucking partner."

His patience for the childish behaviour in this precinct was already drawing low. "You do now."

Reed abruptly shut up in surprise. 

"I am RK900 and I will be assisting you for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't want a fucking android!"

He frowned. "Perhaps when you can pronounce 'fuck' properly, you won't need one."

Chen began to laugh, trying unsuccessfully to stifle it. Reed stumbled over himself trying to think up a response. 

"I look forward to working with you." He turned and left the room to find his assigned terminal next to Reed's. He was regretting this mission already.

* * *

"Lieutenant Anderson?"

The grey-haired man turned sluggishly, already deeper in the barrel than was good for him, even if it wasn't still an afternoon hour. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Connor, an android sent by CyberLife." He inclined his head with a half-smile. Facial expressions had felt more distant recently, with the partial mechanical integration to his brain. 

The man turned back to the bartender with a sardonic eyebrow raise. "The wonders of technology."

"I'm a little more than that."

"That so?"

He considered Lieutenant Anderson, trying to puzzle the man out. "Another round please."

Hank glanced back over at him. "Make it a double, Jim."

This wasn't likely to be pleasant, but perhaps it would startle his partner into an easy exit. Jim, apparently the bartender, set the drink on the bar. He took the glass before Hank could and threw it back, using the technique he learned in Moscow for loosening his throat to drink without swallowing. He rightly assumed whatever Hank had would be swill, but not much could beat homemade Russian vodka on its level of awful. 

Both Jim and Hank looked at him in astonishment. Right - he looked barely legal. How strange. He supposed he wouldn't be carded because of the little light on the side of his head, but to look like he needed to be? Odd. 

"Point made." Hank managed, standing with a practised wobble. 

* * *

When he made it home to their apartment, Niles was already changed and doing crunches in the living room. It was far more comfortable than the barracks had been - or anywhere they'd ever lived, honestly - with every amenity they might ever need, along with an emergency call button that would connect them directly to Kamski in the wake of serious malfunction. 

Kamski may have come off cocksure, but they were the first of their kind - unforeseen hickups were practically a guarantee and only the creator would ultimately be able to fix them. 

"How was Anderson?" Niles asked, hardly winded. It took a lot to get Niles breathing hard. 

"Drunk, but amiable." He reconsidered. "Potentially amiable. He seems to dislike androids, but he doesn't know I'm not, so no deductions there. Reed?"

"Insufferable, overconfident and repugnant."

"A pet project for you to beat into line then, Drill Sargent?"

Niles frowned in his mock insulted manner. He had been, at one point. Until they got promoted to SpecOps, Niles had been the hard ass CO's pet that ran the joint with an iron fist. He wasn"t that much different as a cyborg, just able to do more pushups.

He went into his own room, stripping of the suit and looking at himself, noting all the little freckles and smooth lines that had been buried under approaching middle age, an athletic life and skin weathered from the elements. He ran his hands over the place he'd been stabbed, still scarred under the synthetic skin, feeling nothing. 

He dressed again in the spandex he hadn't worn in a long time, taking deep breaths as he reentered the living room, finding Niles now doing pushups from a handstand. He began to stretch - he was more flesh than Niles, more likely to tear - and considered their situation. 

_The more things change, the more they stay the same, I suppose._

"I should buy you pointes."

Niles paused halfway down, glancing over at him. "What for?"

"We're civilians now. May as well take up hobbies again."

"Yours is more a hobby than mine."

"True, but don't tell me you wouldn't want to."

Niles went back to his pushups. No matter the years, he'd not lost the build, nor the agility. "I'll wear them if you buy them. I've got shit luck picking them out."

Connor beamed, then they went about their exercises in companionable silence. 

* * *

The found Reed and Anderson exiting Fowler's office when they arrived the next morning, both looking angry, but likely for different reasons. 

"Good morning, Lieutenant." Connor chirped. 

"Great, they come in pairs." Reed griped. 

"In this case, yes." 900 replied, looking more serene and somehow more stern than before. 

"I would like to learn more about you today." Connor continued as if Reed didn't exist. 

"Great. Twenty questions." Anderson walked past them rather rudely, but Connor followed measuredly, undeterred. 

"How come you don't refer to me by rank?" Reed barked. 

"When you have one, I will." 900 turned away, walking to their consoles. 

"You're just a fucking peach aren't you?" Reed followed, grouchy and trying to snipe. Not very helpful, considering his previous profession. Like a Shi Tsu puppy barking at a wolf. 

"Perhaps ground rules need to be established." He turned to face the detective abruptly, making the smaller man almost crash into him. 

"What are you talking about, you plastic freak?"

"I am your partner, plastic or not." He took a step forward, backing Reed into a desk. "Your outlook and disposition will remain to a professional level or I will take steps to ensure they do. I imagine you would find adjusting your own attitude significantly more appealing than having me do it for you."

"Jesus shit, you're a scary piece of Tupperware." Reed swallowed thickly. 

"I am more than capable, yes." He eased off, back to neutral. "It is up to you how  _companionable_ I am."

Reed was quiet as he sat down, and remained so most of the day. Whether that was to come up with a good way to continue the argument in his favour or just genuine silence, it was hard to say. 

* * *

Hank was not the most talkative, but coffee seemed to help. He seemed pleased, if surprised, that Connor had retrieved coffee for him. 

"Uh, thanks."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant." He chirped. He really got the impression Hank could become a friend, at least, but there would be work involved in making it so. 

Niles mentioned the HUD he seen, but it was late last night, when Niles had been scanning Reed's file, that Connor noticed Niles' eye membrane projected the data, he didn't just see it in his mind. It was a curious difference, and it wasn't likely he'd have seen it any other time. But Niles hadn't suffered any brain damage (Kamski had been more that willing to supply the full details of their operations when Connor had asked, though Niles remained uninterested in anything other than their base function).

Niles had more physical modification, but Connor had neurological modification. He wondered, of the two, which was more machine. He felt a little different, more focused on the present. 

"I want to get to know you better, Lieutenant, so we can be better partners moving forward."

Hank glared at him, the gaze of a disillusioned man, and went back to work. 

He'd puked more disheartening things in Romania. 

His HUD was more than willing to provide him with things he would have noticed on a mark; the dog hair, stench of booze and the lack of dust where pictures that raised too many questions might have once sat. The tan line around his ring finger, where a wedding band of a long-term marriage once had been. Likely a tragedy of some sort, or a disastrous end to a troubled marriage. 

"I was hoping we could become better acquainted with each other."

"Fuck off, you goddamn android."

He wasn't an android, but that wasn't Anderson's fault for not knowing. It was deliberately ambiguous, so he didn't get offended. "Regardless, it seems ideal for me to understand your working habits at least, so we can work effectively together."

"You're one persistent fuck, I'll give you that."

He smiled. Niles was much, much harder than Hank would ever be, and he knew exactly how to wheedle his way in to get at the softness that made him a cop and not a soldier. "It's one of my many features, Lieutenant. All I know about you now is that you spend a lot of time in bars, and you have a dog."

Anderson's head snapped up. "A dog?"

"The hair on your jacket and seat suggest a dog."

Anderson huffed. "Yeah, I have a dog."

"What's it's name?"

Anderson steadfastly ignored him for a long moment before sighing. "Sumo. His name's Sumo."

"I like dogs." He's had one for a while, a tiny black Sheltie named Gabrielle. She was a sweet and soft little thing, unafraid to run into danger and liked to nip Niles' heel when he ran out of formation. He'd gotten her at nineteen, found in the bombed out ruin of what had been a European vacation home. She'd been a puppy, starved and scared. Niles had let him take her, and she'd served beside him faithfully until she died at eighteen years old. She'd been buried next to Niles' friend Amanda, who'd perished in battle the day before. 

"Can you even like things?"

"Certainly." He cocked his head, his twink tactics from back in the day (lifted from Niles' whore phase in high school) springing back to life as though they'd never left him. 

"Well, good for you." Anderson went back to his reports. 

That was enough prodding for one day. 

Connor went back to work as well, between taking time to watch real-time footage of Niagara Falls. 


End file.
